Thursday, January 19, 2012

waveburst on my physical

I’m walking outside today with a mild intention of dying in the snow. I’m wearing layers but not enough. Or: I’m wearing layers enough that no one will stop me before I step outside; not layers enough to keep me alive should I stay outdoors.

1. I want to be fancied, however superficial that fancy may be.2. I want to use my sexuality to my advantage.3. I want to demystify the body. I want to change its politics.4. I want to change how we communicate, change language itself.5. I want to. Simply. I don’t care how controversial that is. I don’t find it a big deal. There are innumerable acts of unjust in the world and if my displaying “the privates” of my body is enough to rouse an interpersonal riot, then I am deeply disappointed with how easy this world is in terms of jarring it. How drab. How boring.

We all live like haunted specters on a dead planet full of bones and ashes, each wandering in the erotic tribulation of a nervous thought that can never find its way back home; guided by the Lamentation of a melancholic despair we drift lethargically toward the interminable finitude that is.

I want to pursue an intuition about the baroque as a mode of American poetry—a mode of early modernity particularly well adapted to a postmodern era which has seen an acceleration of the modern tendency to break down experience into fragments. It is peculiarly well-suited to a poetics of resistance—not in a nostalgic re-creation of some lost lifeworld, but through a radical materialism that paradoxically creates a new aperture for subjective, even spiritual, experience.

THE PUSH TO PULL THE FLOW FROM LIFE'S DISTURBANCE (TERROR FANTASIA)by Cassandra Troyan

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For philosophers, such basic questions are cerebral exercises; for children, madmen and poets they are undetermined and flesh-real: Are my parents actually evil monsters? Is it all a conspiracy? Is someone hiding under my bed? Are they all dead? Am I dead? Do we embody mythological forces and play out some grand drama we don't understand? Was it I who killed my friend? Is it I who am the monster?

Modern nihilism operates on a specific dimension of temporality: the absolute way to accumulate is to promote a constant renewal, a repetition that preserves only those parts of the past that serve the transient needs of the market, while simultaneously conceiving that past as a causal sequence of events mechanically leading up to an oblivious present. Historicizing a lifeless past goes hand-in-hand with prolonging the present into the future. Contemporary art, the trans-conceptual and trans-historic artistic idiom of our time, thus manages the replication and variation of an immediate past, preserving only the ruins of modernism. Historicizing then becomes the mirror image of an atemporal historical condition.

persistence requires illuminationstubbornness meets requirementsless than enough is the usualfourteen acts of bravery villagesometimes I think without wonderingtoo many consistencies relinquishabsolute freedom finds a formempty solutions are regeneratedsecrets can be kept momentarily

Umberto Eco in 1967 called the creative producer, to consider ‘openness’ as a “positive aspect of his production, recasting the work so as to expose the maximum possible opening” (2006: 178). According to Eco, the creator should positively articulate the ontological condition of openness that resides anyway in any cultural artefact instead of trying to suppress it. This openness refers to the multiplicity of interpretations that arise out of the differentiated meaning-making capacities of the audiences, as “every reception of a work of art is both an interpretation and performance of it, because in every reception the work takes on a fresh perspective for itself” (Eco, 2006 :180).

"Novelty and the politicization of the creative field: Creative labour and the ‘open work’"byPanos Kompatsiaris

"Portrait of a Ghost Drummer is a multidisciplinary project that explores graphic qualities in process of playing on a drum kit. Besides being a musician, drummer when playing is unconsciously engaged in an elaborate choreography. The drum sticks are the extensions of drummer's hands like a brush is an extension of the painter's hand. Motion-captured movements become a visual map over a time revealing fragile rhythm structures and invisible notations behind energetic instrumental solo. 'Portrait of a Ghost Drummer' expands the understanding of drummers activity from purely auditory experience to spontaneous visual performance."

I love your mouth, I tell her, and he is correct, my wife thinks, he really does love my mouth, but then she is not sure which is worse: that her husband kisses her mouth in the awful way he has grown to kiss it (he had been better than this, you bet, god as her witness it was surely better than what it's become), or that her husband has come to speak in this cheap and selfish way about the object of his pleasure.